


The Dragon Shepherd

by EssenceOfNightshade



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 23:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16106207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssenceOfNightshade/pseuds/EssenceOfNightshade
Summary: Arthur Dayne was presumably the lone survivor of Combat at the tower of joy. He raised Jon somewhere in the green hills of Essos towards his true purpose, to be a leader. After an unfortunate event Jon is found by a girl who changes his plans for the time being.





	The Dragon Shepherd

**Author's Note:**

> For Daenerys the story picks off when Drogon flies away from the fighting pits and takes her to the same location that was used in the series. I recommend rewatching the original scene where she wanders around away from her dragon, the first chapter happens mostly around that same area. For Jon the story line is completely different but hopefully you'll get the hang of it.
> 
> I'll take every comment you give to heart. Share your ideas, questions, criticism or anything you'd like! There will obviously be much more chapters, next one possibly during this week if the exams don't exhaust me. I hope you enjoy the read! :-)

“Focus, stay calm and still.” Ser Arthur’s lessons on hunting were repeating in his head as he drew back an arrow, aiming the bow at a stag that was chewing on grass. Small screech left the bow at the draw and the ears of the stag flinched, probably suspecting someone was present. It held its head up, cautiously trying to pick another sound cue before it would run off.

 

Jon held his breath for a small moment that felt like an eternity, waiting for the game to relax. He would have to be precise. He had been out in the woods for hours now, hunting. He was decent with a bow but if he were to miss the arrow it would most likely mean only having bread for supper again. It wasn’t him that he was worried about, however. Arthur needs to eat better. His condition has gotten worse and now it was Jon’s turn to fully take responsibility on feeding the household. He would always accompany Arthur in hunting, but it was rarely him who ended up catching the meal. It didn’t necessarily mean Jon was bad, Arthur just happened to be excellent.

 

Finally, the stag lowered its head to feast on grass for the last time if the gods were good. Now it was his time to make a move. He wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead to the sleeve of his drawing hand. Tilting his head slightly he closed one of his eyes. He took the shot but the arrow only managed to scratch the flesh of the animal. Jon dropped his hands off the bow only to draw a small dagger from his waist. He ran as fast as he could and tried to catch the now running thing but it was pointless.

 

Returning with head down he felt ashamed of himself. Arthur still had to eat so he moved to their backyard to slaughter their only remaining sheep. As shepherds they used to have much more, but there was a wolf that would snatch one whenever it could. Jon built traps, fortificated the fencing, even guarded during some of the nights with a sword in hand. The wolf was always one step ahead, even Arthur couldn’t catch it. It was so sneaky that Jon had managed to set eyes on it only once in his entire life. Eyes the colour of blood red, fur white as the stars it locked eyes with Jon for seconds before fleeing from the scene. The wolf had always been around and eventually Jon started calling it Ghost because of its silent, cautious nature and the colour of its fur. Arthur never approved of it, giving a name to their worst enemy seemed ridiculous to him.

 

“That was the last one,” said Arthur Dayne sitting on a bed as Jon came through the door hands occupied with all the mutton he’d been able to cut. Arthur didn’t sound disappointed, he never sounded like anything. Life was but a duty for him, and everything was to be expected. Only time that the man had shown even a hint of emotion was the first time Jon had managed knock him on his knees and put a sword on the back of his neck in a sparring contest. 

 

He can still remember the day when they first started training, he was only six. Sure, the Sword of the Morning held back for him, but whenever Jon had gotten close to beating him, he held back a little less. It always felt like he was fighting a new, stronger opponent and once again he was being pushed to his absolute limits. At ten and four Jon was getting comfortable against Arthur, and he was already expecting a new challenge from the man. After minutes of intense struggle one of Jon’s two swords touched his neck for the very first time. Arthur had granted Jon proud eyes accompanied by a small smirk. It was subtle but Jon had never seen the man smile before so he couldn’t have missed it.

 

He was much older now and hadn’t been beaten with swords in a long time. As of late there hadn’t been much competition though because Arthur has gotten ill. Jon handed him a dish of bread and mutton, it was not glamorous but it was good enough to survive. Arthur patted on the bed gesturing for Jon to come and sit beside him. 

 

Jon sat down waiting for Arthur to speak first as was the custom. Jon only really spoke when spoken to, always remaining polite nonetheless. Arthur had often told him he was too humble but Jon didn’t see the problem, Arthur himself was the most modest man who ever lived. They had been living in isolation in a small wooden house and avoided human contact as much as they could. As far as Jon understood Arthur was considered an enemy to the Crown which had driven them all the way to Essos.

 

“I have nothing left to teach you. I have educated you in every way I could. Even with swords you have been better than me for years,” he said with a weak voice but chuckled at the last part. He then continued, “my purpose in this world is fulfilled, the rest is in your hands, Jon.”

 

“What are you talking about? Your purpose?” Asked Jon with eyes narrowed, his voice as low as Arthur’s.

 

“You will do great things. You’ll think me a fool for this, but I saw it in a vision a long time ago. You are much more important than you think, far more important than any king. The vision, It wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t a feeling. It was the future, I saw the future in the flames, Jon. I saw you leading, I saw you defeat tyrants. I saw you saving people from certain death..” He must have seen Jon’s confusion and decided stop.

 

“I’m sorry, but this is where my journey ends, you have to continue without me. It will not be easy, but never give up. You are ready now and you must travel to Westeros. It is where you belong, not here in the middle of nowhere.” He was sweating and looked weak, like he was about to pass out.

 

Jon noticed Arthur’s shape. He stood up and faced him, “your fever is making you imagine things, lay down and rest.” 

 

Arthur sighed longingly and shook his head slightly. “Do not worry about me, I shall get plenty of rest soon enough.” His appearance turned serious. “Jon, about your parents..”

 

Jon cut him off. “Are you my father?” He asked it like he was already sure of it, seeking but a confirmation. They had never talked about his parents before and whenever Jon had brought it up in the past Arthur cringed and avoided the discussion. Jon understood these were his final moments and didn’t want the question to be left unanswered. He did his best not to show emotion in front of Arthur to have him feel confident about leaving him behind.

 

Suddenly Arthur’s eyes widened. “No, Jon. I am not your father,” he said with a resolute voice, it made Jon feel like he was unwanted.

 

Before he could get too deep into his own insecurities, Arthur continued with much softer voice, “I would not take the honor from your father, but know that I consider you as if you were my own son. I gave your mother my word that I would take your name to my grave. Your mother loved you very much and insured your safety by having me do so. Your questions of blood will be answered in the future, worry not.

 

Jon was utterly unsatisfied with the answer. He knew time was running out however so he had to let it go and say this while he still could or he would regret it for the rest of his life. “I don’t care about blood, you are my father. You are the one who always took care of me.”

 

Arthur shed a tear and gave Jon one of his rare proud smiles and said, “I don’t have much to give you, but Dawn is yours.”

 

Jon’s jaw dropped and his wet eyes that he had been hiding turned back to Arthur’s, “It’s not for me to take.. it belongs to house Dayne. It belongs to the next Sword of the Morning..”

 

“There will not be another Sword of the Morning, Jon. My house is gone. I want you to take Dawn and go to Westeros. These are my final wishes,” Arthur spoke with life already escaping from his eyes.

 

He placed a hand over Jon’s and on his final breath he stated, “I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.” He relaxed himself on the bed and closed his eyes. His face turned pale and the shaking of his body that was caused by the fever stopped.

 

Jon couldn’t move a muscle, he stood there eyes empty as the darkness during a night. He was confused and sad at the same time, not understanding anything that he had been told. He knew that he wouldn’t get any more answers now, though. Arthur was dead. He would have to move forward and hope that the unanswered questions would be answered later on like the knight had promised.

 

He gently carried Arthur outside. His legs were as weak as the thinnest of sticks, but it had to be done. He was finally done burying the body on one of the green hills where their house was, kneeling on the grave allowing himself to grieve for a moment. Suddenly he heard steps, someone was behind him. 

 

He put a hand on the pommel of Dawn and turned around to see a figure. It was a girl in a white dress covered with dirt, her silver-white hair messy but obviously braided with care at some point. Even in such a condition she was the most beautiful woman Jon had ever seen, not that he had much to compare to. In all his life he hasn’t seen but the old hags of the village nearby from where they got their bread and other necessary supplies. Jon took his hand off the pommel not to scare her.

 

“Forgive me, but..” she began in a confident voice but she was quickly stopped as her extraordinary amethyst eyes turned to the grave he was kneeling on,  “I’m sorry.. Have you lost someone?” She asked sincerely as if she truly cared.

 

It took Jon a few seconds to take in her beauty and to compose himself, realizing he was being asked a question. Jon wasn’t sure what to call Arthur, so he gave her a nod and called him by what the man had always been to him, “I’ve lost my.. Father.” His eyes turned to the grave but then back to the woman, “you can put down that rock you are hiding in your hand now, I won’t hurt you, I’m just a shepherd.” He said in an assuring tone with a voice so low it could be taken as a whisper.

 

She dropped the stone and seemed embarrassed, probably noting that he had two swords on him and knew that her rock wouldn’t do her much good now that he knew about it.

 

“It’s okay, I don’t blame a woman for not trusting a stranger of a man in the middle of nowhere. What brings you here, anyway?” Jon questioned, not understanding what she was doing in such a place.

 

“My drag.. I got lost while riding. I am not sure where we are, will you take me back to Meereen?”

 

Jon huffed, “Meereen? You must be a terrible rider, Meereen is hundreds of miles away from here,” he tried to joke. He then frowned. “Where is your horse, anyway?”

 

She immediately shot back, “and you must be a terrible shepherd, where is your herd?” She nodded towards the empty fencing next to his house.

 

He really was a terrible shepherd, to let a wolf steal all of his herd. Of course he didn’t give her the satisfaction that the truth would bring her. “I am leaving anyway," he said slightly agitated. "Your turn, where is your horse?”

 

“Like you said, I am a terrible rider. I have no clue where we are and see nothing but more hills around us. I am needed back at Meereen, will you take me there? You will be rewarded greatly, you have my word.” She stared at him impatiently waiting for an answer.

 

“I’m not headed to Meereen. I’m going to Westeros.” He rejected.

 

She almost seemed happy by his answer. “Great, so am I. Take me to Meereen first and I will take you with me to Westeros."

 

Jon was suspicious, “take me with you? You have your own ship?”

 

“You could say so,” she said in a smug voice.

 

“What’s your name?” He proceeded, curious.

 

She opened her mouth after hesitating, “Dany.” She looked at him obviously wanting to know his own.

 

Jon was glad she only gave him her first name. It meant he could do the same without being questioned further, “Jon.” 

 

After packing everything he would need with him, they finally left. They were sharing the only horse that he and Arthur owned.

 

“I don’t understand why you have two swords on you.” She struggled as the swords made it hard for her to be on the back of the horse. Jon recalled to Arthur saying that men would often fight with sword in one hand and a shield in the other. Jon was accustomed to using two swords as the knight himself did and a shield would just slow him down. “Preference,” Jon said simply.

 

When the darkness overtook the sky they decided to stop for the night. They didn’t talk much, neither of them willing to share too much of their lives. In Jon’s case he also just didn’t talk much in general although he noticed he was much more social with her than what he used to be with Arthur.

 

After eating some of the mutton that was left from earlier Jon handed her a fur. “Have some rest. We have another day of riding ahead of us.” 

 

Dany took the fur with pleasure and got comfortable. She then looked over to Jon who himself was lying on the cold ground and sighed, “you can sleep by my side, it’s too cold of a night to be without any cover.”

 

Jon stiffened slightly at having her permission to join under her fur but didn't give in. “I’m fine, someone has to keep watch anyway.” He was doing well to keep his composure so far.

 

She seemed intrigued and looked directly in his eyes, “another man wouldn’t think twice about it.” Jon was frustrated at her knowing exactly how beautiful she was. He gave her a shrug and lowered his head back on the ground. 

 

“Very well,” she rose up on her feet and moved to Jon and was now handing him the fur back. “It’s your only one, I can’t take it. Either we share it or you take it by yourself,” she continued waiting for him to make the choice.

 

Jon cursed the gods for making her so stubborn and granting her with such deviousness. “Fine. We share it,” he grunted not willing to let her lie in the cold as he knew just how displeasing it was.

 

A triumphant smirk flashed over her face as she curled up to his side throwing the fur over the both of them. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep next to her.

 

He woke up to a nightmare and quickly got on his feet, also noticing that her head had been leaning on his chest. Dany herself woke up to him waking up in such a manner, “What’s wrong?” She asked and glanced around them, worried.

 

Jon shook his head, “just a nightmare.” 

 

She must have thought it had something to do with Arthur and she wasn’t exactly wrong as she began, “Jon I’m sorry about your father.. I’m sure he was a great man and a father, judging by you. He must have raised you well for you to treat a complete stranger with such hospitality.” She said with a slight smile of gratitude.

 

Her appearance turned dark, “I have no family left and I know how it feels being alone. My father.. was an evil man.” She said it as if she felt guilty about her father.

 

“We are not our fathers, no matter how much we want or don't want to be. We create our own fates.” He replied and returned the smile that had already left her a while ago.

 

After riding for another half a day through the endless hills he thought he heard something. He stopped the horse and got down from the stead raising his finger on his mouth gesturing for Dany to stay silent so he could hear better. She looked confused but obeyed. 

 

The sound was getting closer, it sounded like a heavy thunderstorm. Now she heard it too, they both froze still, Jon standing on the ground and Dany still on the stead both trying to figure it out. The sound became louder and louder, and they could now hear screaming. Now Jon knew exactly what it was having seen the Dothraki before when they were raiding the villages that were further from his house. she must have known what it was too, “We need to go, now!” She yelled, petrified.

 

It was too late. He saw a few scouts moving ahead of the khalasar, they were seen. Jon knew how good the Dothraki were on horses. Their own horse couldn’t possibly carry the both of them and outrun a whole khalasar with two riders, but perhaps one could be saved.

 

As the scouts were approaching Jon turned to Dany in the hopeless the situation. “Go! I’ll hold them off, leave or we both die!” He knew he couldn’t save the both of them and knowing the Dothraki by their reputation he also knew that him dying fighting them would be a better fate than for a woman to be caught alive by them.

 

She was reluctant, fear showing from her face. Jon wouldn’t have it and gave the horse a hard pat on the back and it took off.

 

The scouts were on him now, four large men began surrounding him on horses. He strapped his belt off as he took Dawn in his right hand and another sword in his left. He would have to kill as many as he could before dying so that they wouldn’t catch up to her.

 

The mounts were circling him with great obedience for a good while when suddenly they got scattered, terrified of something. It was as if the grass under them was now made out of flames and they had to run to not get burnt. Even the horselords couldn’t control the restless animals and had to dismount them to engage in combat. He finally found the reason for their distress, it was Ghost! The large wolf was standing fierce on a cliff nearby, looking down at him. The beast then turned around, leaving him to hang out dry once again. Jon wasn’t sure what Ghost’s purpose was or why he had followed them, but fighting four men standing on their own legs sounded much more favoring than them riding on their horses.

 

They were still screaming as they came at him all at once. Jon began swinging and dodging and parrying the strikes of their arakhs. Having longer swords made it slightly easier to fight them off, but they were all larger than him which balanced the scales. None of them had armor on them including Jon, but it didn’t matter as they couldn’t hit a single blow on him. In turn he quickly managed to slice open the chest of one of them. The man fell down on the ground with bewildered eyes still looking at him. The rest three of them yelled something at each other loudly, slightly stepping back from him. Now the whole khalasar was riding towards him.

 

Jon was glancing around, waiting for the scouts to attack once more. They didn’t make a move until thousands of Dothraki were around them. There were five men who were obviously the leaders of the tribe and one of them gave the three remaining scouts a nod. They yelled their battle screams once again and came at Jon, it was the same old dance. 

 

None of the three were able to touch him and one by one he reduced their number. Soon the yellow sun that was carved in the middle of Dawn’s pommel has been painted in a shade of blood that made it appear black. The crowd seemed to be cheering in approval as the leaders of the tribe looked impressed by him killing their own men. They all got off their horses and surrounded him. 

 

This was it for Jon. He was content with his death, Dany got away. he was able to save someone else’s life with his own, even if he didn’t really know who she was. If someone had asked him how he’d prefer to go, this would surely be his own choice. Maybe Arthur wasn’t crazy after all, he would save lives and hopefully defeat tyrants if he could at least take one or two of the leaders down with him.

 

He gave a deep sigh and swung both of his swords around once, preparing himself for battle. The five men were approaching him, all from different angles, when suddenly everyone stood still. It was the loudest screech he’d ever heard, suppressing the sound of thousands of horses running on grass. Jon looked up to the sky where the sound came from when a large shadow overtook the whole khalasar. 

It couldn’t be..


End file.
